


sent me flying

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Language, No actual sex, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, These poor boys, a huge ball of angst and sadness, dan is bottling up emotions and phil is just lost, happy ending kinda, life isnt that easy tbh, mentions of depression, shes just a very emotional angsty artist okay, the f word is used a few times, title is based off another amy winehouse song oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: it's 2012 and dan and phil aren't sure where they go from here.





	sent me flying

The rain hammered against the glass of the window, the sky lights up in flashes, thunder rolling through the city of London, a storm erupting in the sky, covering the city in its destruction, the only one’s really safe are those tucked up in their homes or still stuck at work. But Dan doesn’t really feel safe.

It’s a little over eight at night, and the night has already taken over, the blue sky now turned dark, as Dan lays on his side of the bed. He could easily go lay in his own bed, his “fake” bed, but there’s something oddly comforting about Phil’s sheets, even though there’s no one he hates more than this moment, than Phil.

Sure, hate is a strong word, but his chest tightens at the thought of his boyfriend. He can’t even fall asleep without him ruining it. He sniffs angrily to keep unwanted tears at bay and curls up on himself for a pathetic attempt at comforting himself.

They’ve had another fight and it was a really bad one this time. Words were yelled and they stung, and Dan knows that no matter how angry he is, he said some pretty fucking nasty stuff. Phil’s in the same position as he is, there’s no good or bad guy in the argument.  
It’s just them.

The thunder cracks again, louder than before, and Dan watches the white light fill the window, curling up tighter so his knees are almost touching his chin.

He doesn’t fucking get it. Things were going so incredibly well for so long, he had a stable friendship and relationship, a growing career, he was financially doing okay, he lived in fucking London of all places and was finally getting happier, but yet it all seemed to melt into nothing but shit in just a blink of an eye.

He thought this would have been his year, he was gonna take 2012 by the head and make it what he wanted. So why was he curled up in the cold of the growing night, all alone, throat hoarse from the screaming match he’s just endured?

Tears slipped down his face silently, the rain outside almost mocking him as a sick, sick joke.  
He’d destroyed the one thing he held so close to his heart and he didn’t know why. 

Maybe it was the fame? Had it gotten to his head, the sudden attention? He sucked in an uneven breath. No. It couldn’t have been that, surely.  
Was he was just a terrible person.  
He breathed. Probably. 

He’d never been any good at maintaining friendships or relationships, the only one aside to Phil was a three year on-and-off-thing that broke off rather too easily once they left for university. More of a casual sexual relationship than a deep meaningful romantic one.   
He managed to breeze through various friendships during school, never really staying long enough to become something good and lasting – always brushed aside to be by himself, that was, until he had met Phil.  
And he promised himself to try so hard to make this work, and soon, it was his heart leading the way instead of his head trying too hard – it almost came like a second nature for Dan to crave Phil; his messages, the Skype calls, his voice, and eventually, his touch.  
He wanted and wanted so badly, that his heart would run away with himself, in all the right ways.

But his head seemed to have gotten loud again, and was crushing all those dreams and aspirations, his over anxious brain had gotten the better of him again.  
He felt the tears roll down his face, soaked up by the material of his shirt and he didn’t even have the physical energy to swipe away the new ones that were tickling his skin.

He thought he was supposed to be getting better? He thought that he was happy? He felt himself getting better, so why did he feel worse than before? Maybe it was because the one thing he relied and leaned on was crumbling too. Maybe because there was the possibility of losing the one thing that actually made him feel better.

Or maybe he wasn’t really getting better in the first place.

He heard a soft knock on the door, pulling him back to reality and braced himself. This was what always happened – the fought, yelled, went away, cried, talked, made up and had some angry, post-fight sex that never really felt right, went to sleep, woke up and did it all again.  
This was the part when they apologised to each other, promised to try harder or worry less, it was the part that was so fake and forced and done in the promise of the other one still being there when they woke up – like an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave each other.

“Hey” is all Phil said when he entered the room, moving towards the bed.

“Hi” Dan said back, not even looking up once.

“I’m sorry” 

There it was, the first part was done, Phil says sorry, and like a script, Dan says it back.

“Me too” he says, voice dull and void of emotions, like reading off a script.

He doesn’t know why he does it, why either of them do it, why they subject themselves to this amount of emotional torment each time, forcing themselves though gritted teeth instead of actually fixing it.

Fake it till you make it, you know?

“Sorry I made you cry” Phil says will the same small voice he’s started using around Dan, as he shifts across the bed.

Here comes the angry hate sex. He knows it’s coming, the excuse to be physically close whilst still pretending its love. It’s not love, it’s the furthest thing from love there possibly is.  
It’s an excuse, for the two of them, to pretend to be as normal as possible, another façade for their crumbling relationship.  
He braces himself for it – it’s not as if he’s not consenting, because he’s as desperate for it as Phil is, but it feels so awkward than it used to.  
He relaxes when he realises Phil hasn’t moved, and this time he shifts his body to turn to face his boyfriend who’s sitting crossed legged in the middle of the bed.

He’s crying, much like Dan, tears flowing from his eyes in a silent, unnerving manner, unspeaking. He’s not sure what to do so he sits up, back against the headboard, knees tucked against his chest.

“What are we?” Phil finally speaks, his voice seems so distant and so much more colder than Dan had expected.

He shrugs, focusing his gaze on a square of the bedsheet so he selfishly doesn’t have to watch the person he loves so much break in front of him. He doesn’t have the energy to comfort him anymore.

“We’re broken, Dan” Phil answers himself, voice cracking when he say’s Dan’s name, like it physically hurt him to say his name out loud.

“We’re fucking broken” Dan finally speaks.

Phil swipes at his eyes with the back on his hands, blinking furiously to stop another onslaught of fresh tears, but when Dan looks up, he sees the glint in his eyes, swimming with tears that have formed rather quickly.   
He looks back at the window. The rain is heavier now, pounding against the glass pane, almost as if it were trying to get it. Dan blinks and his own rain appears again.

“I’m sorry” Phil whispers and he sounds so broken and tired, and as much as Dan wishes he could shift the blame entirely to Phil, to let him take it and carry it on his shoulders so Dan wouldn’t have to, he knows that’s wrong and he’s going to have to take the brunt of his mistakes soon.

“It’s not your fault” Dan sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him, and catches Phil looking up at him, the light catching the blue in his eyes.

“I act like a fucking twat most of the time, I’m sorry you put up with my bullshit all the time” It’s only half-hearted and they both know that, it’s been said so many times.

“I’m sorry I’m a twat”  
“I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole”  
“I’m sorry I fucked up”  
“I’m sorry I acted like a dick”  
“I’m sorry”

It’s all words and no emotion now. And even though it’s easy to say on their lips, it’s never easy on their hearts. It’s heavy and weighing both of them down. There’s so much Dan wants to say, to break down and pour all he’s got to Phil. There’s a time he used to, but those days are long gone and he sits next to Phil as if he’s a stranger he’s only just met.

Phil just huffs, using the heel of his hand to rub his eyes, and Dan wriggles his toes, giving himself something to concentrate on rather than the heavy silence that fills the room.

“You wouldn’t be such an twat if you just fucking opened up to me, Dan” Phil says, letting his arms fall to his sides, fingers itching to twist with the covers to occupy them from hanging lamely.

“I used to be able to talk to you until it all got fucked up” Dan spits back.

This isn’t how it usually goes, they never fight after a fight, it’s new territory and unnerving, but Dan doesn’t care, in the moment he wants the fight, he wants it bad.

“And who’s fault do you think that is?” Phil quips, his tone is dripping with bitterness and it lands sharply in Dan’s chest, but he takes it.

“Fuck you Phil” he almost growls, and watches his fingers ball into fists.

“God, you’re so fucking unbelievable” Phil almost yells, voice cracking again, and it looks like he’s going to yell again, but he regains his posture and sits tall,

“You’re a fucking nightmare, do you know that Dan? You’re a fucking nightmare”

Dan can feel the hurt in his chest bubbling like boiling water, steam filling his lungs, making it hard to breathe, the heat washing over him, burning his entire body.

“Oh I’m the bad guy am I?” he shouts now, he didn’t want another yelling match, but it seems so close and Dan is teetering over the edge at this point.

“Fuck me, Dan!” Phil exasperates, flailing his arms wildly, “You think none of this bullshit would’ve happened if you hadn’t acted like a little bitch all the fucking time?” 

He’s true, and Dan knows it. They’ve been arguing because Dan has had some walls up, a little too high and too many bricks. He had corned himself and Phil in, and when Phil tried to made a doorway out, he lashed out of him and that’s when shit began to happen.  
He had been so afraid of what people would think of a relationship between them, that he blocked himself off, became way too aggressive to the point where people noticed and it spiralled out of control.  
Dan resorted to publically being rude towards Phil. He would talk badly about him on liveshows, brush off anything about him, and straight up refused to be associated with him.  
They didn’t make videos together anymore because Dan wanted to be known as Dan, not Dan and Phil.  
What Phil had said had hurt, because he was one hundred percent right.  
Tears welled up in his eyes, and this time he didn’t care. He choked out a sob, and let tears slip down his face,

“I fucking tried!” he was screaming now, “I fucking tried so hard to be happy with you Phil!” his voice buckled underneath it’s self but he had no time to feel sorry for himself.

“I thought I was supposed to be happy”

Phil didn’t move. There were a few minutes of silence as Dan collected himself from his small, short lived breakdown. Then finally, Phil spoke,

“Are you happy, Dan?”

Dan shrugged,  
“Not really.”

The older boy just nodded. Dan couldn’t even look at him, his heart felt so heavy in his chest and he was so damn tired.

“Maybe we should just break up.”

His voice sounded so causal that it threw Dan off guard. It didn’t sound like it was a heat of the moment type of thing. It sounded calculated and well thought through and that’s what hurt the most.  
He was looking at him now, and couldn’t even fathom what he had just suggested.  
Phil had tears, but Dan was hiccupping through sobs. 

He thought he had Phil, but those six words had sent him flying.

He felt as if the wind had been sucked out of his lungs, he was suffocating on the oxygen in the room, his brain telling him he was running out of air, and he was sure this was the beginning signs of a panic attack. He reached out for Phil’s hand, but he flinched, and retreated his hand back to his lap.  
Another hit and Dan was hurtling towards nothing.

“Phil” he said between sobs, his voice sounded strangled and broken.

Phil looked up slowly, watching Dan duck his head, sucking in breaths, when he realised what was happening.  
All feelings aside he shuffled to his side, grabbing his hand in his.

“Fuck” he whispered as Dan’s breathing became quick and erratic, “Fuck, Dan, breathe.”

“Can’t” he managed to wheeze, looking up at Phil with pained eyes,

“Breathe with me Dan” he said in a calm tone, squeezing his hand, puffing his chest out, then back again, getting Dan to follow his lead.  
After knowing Dan for as much time as he did, he got used to having to remind Dan how to breathe on many, unpleasant occasions. This wasn’t his panic attack and wouldn’t be his last, but Phil had an idea on how to pull him out of it.

Dan finally after about a minute, managed to regain his breath, his sobs now reduced to tiny hiccups, his hand still in Phil’s.  
They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds aside from the dying rain outside being Dan’s raspy breaths. 

“I’m sorry” Dan said finally, his voice heavy and tired.

“Don’t be” Phil simple said, neither boys making eye contact.

“I thought I was supposed to be better” Dan said, his voice was so quiet and it reminded Phil of how young he really was.

“I thought I was gonna be happy once I met you,” he cried softly, “I thought I could put my past behind me and finally be happy” he let out another strangled cry, and Phil took no time to pull him towards his body, wrapping his arms around him.

“Phil please don’t leave” he sobbed into Phil’s shirt, and Phil let out a cry too,

“I’m so fucking sorry” 

“Don’t leave” Dan cried deliriously, voice muffled by the shirt, and Phil pulled him closer to his chest.

“Dan, we need to fix this” 

Dan just hummed, then pulled himself slowly away from Phil, to wipe his eyes and nose.  
“I wanna fix this so badly, Phil” he said, desperation and truth dripping in his voice.

Phil nodded, the words dried up in his throat and seemed to die away, unsure of what to say.

“I wanna get better” Dan said in a small voice.

Phil knew what he meant by ‘better’. He was referring to the crushing depression he had been carrying on his shoulders since he was about fourteen years old. With a mixture of assholes at school, distant parents and zero friends, mental health really takes a toll and soon its engulfing your life and dragging behind you for the remainder of your life.

When Phil had first met Dan, it was bad. Bad to the point where they would cry together over Skype calls after Dan would desperately beg that he wanted to just die, and Phil would sob through all the reasons he loved him, grasping all of Dan that he could. Then in 2010 it wavered, they spent more time together, physically, and Phil would make sure to not let Dan go too far from his sight, and he seemed so much better.  
They moved in together, and Dan ditched taking his anti-depressants in the morning for waking up next to his boyfriend. He was so sure he was getting better.

It seemed both of them were wrong.

It had been festering in Dan’s mind for those last few years, pouncing on him and dragging him as far as possible, and Dan was spiralling out of control, in complete darkness.  
It was a sad cry for help and Phil had missed it.

It was naïve of Dan to think that a relationship would fix all the problems he had, completely innocent and naïve.   
Yet Phil hadn’t seen it coming and let Dan fall, hard, and hadn’t been there to pick him back up after they kicked each other down so much.  
They needed each other more than ever, and had subsequently been making it worse for them both.

“Baby, I’m here” Phil whispered, fingers lanced with Dan’s. 

Phil didn’t need to make a speech about how Dan was gonna get better and overcome his demons because they both knew it bullshit, but what they did know was that life wasn’t a movie and that they weren’t going to have hot passionate sex and fall in love all over again. Because that’s not how life worked.

“Help me get better, Phil” Dan said, voice low and ghostly that it sent chills through Phil’s body.

“I will, Dan, I’m here with you every step of the way” he smiled.

“Thanks”

They sat there, hands still intertwined, unspeaking as the rain still pattered against the window lightly, sitting in a comfortable silence, the kind of silence they had missed. It wasn’t heavy with anger or hatred, but more of an understanding. Like they were communicating without words.

Eventually Phil left, leaving the ghost of his lips in Dan’s hair, and before Dan could protest, Phil was retreating to sleep in Dan’s bed, and Dan was left in Phil’s.

The hurt in his chest from earlier had died down slightly, it was still there, but not as present. More like background noise in his head, one that was slowly dwindling away.  
Things wouldn’t be fixed overnight and they still had things to figure out. They would probably still fight and argue and more tears would be shed. But something felt better this time, they had taken one step forwards instead of three steps back. 

And as Dan snuggled down, face pressing down into the pillow that still had Phil’s scent on, listening to the storm outside, he smiled to himself. Because things were going to get better, and even through everything they’ve been through, from 2009 to now, in the best ways and the worst, Phil manages to still send him flying.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !! i really felt like getting some angst out and what better than 2012 phan?? if you liked this please leave a kudos or comment !! all are greatly appreciated so thank you !!


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